


we haven't spoke (since you went away)

by loveisfatal



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28180299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveisfatal/pseuds/loveisfatal
Summary: Staring at my hungover reflection now, I think back to the day you left as if I remember it well enough in the first place. Everything left the same as the night before. Only two things were missing. My old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, and you.---------------------------Or, the one where Harry's partner left him, and all he does is wallow in his sadness in a weak attempt to get over them. In the form of diary entries and completely based off the lyrics of 'From the Dining Table'.
Kudos: 1





	we haven't spoke (since you went away)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! It's been months since I first posted on here. I've tried writing so many different things, but they never seem to go anywhere. I randomly got a burst of what you could call creativity the other night and wrote this 600 word something. I love writing stories based off of songs and you will probably be getting many more of these. Also, I purposely didn't specify who his partner is. I think you can figure it out with the subtle hints I've given. Enjoy!

\----------------------------

_**Thursday, 27/09/18** _

I woke up in my hotel room. Alone. Yawning, I turned over to find your side of the bed empty. It’s been a year, yet it still surprises me every morning.

I played with myself, kind of like you used to. I finished, or gave up, unsatisfied still. I drank. Just as I once had drunk you in, admiring the button of a nose, or cheekbones sharper than your words, harsh enough to cut my heart open.

I’ve been feeling like shit, but waking up at twelve o’clock from your alarm makes me feel a little better. I think I remember it being Marimba, but what do I know? “Hardly anything,” you had said.

\----------------------------

Staring at my hungover reflection now, I think back to the day you left as if I remember it well enough in the first place. Everything left the same as the night before. Only two things were missing. My old holey Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, and you.

You.

You haven’t called since you left. Not even a text. You would always leave me notes whenever you left the house, but this time you didn’t. It hurts, yet here I am, an arrogant son of a bitch, not wanting to call first. Sometimes I think you were just a part of my imagination, a fragment of the perfect life I had once envisioned. I’m not sure I want that life now. How perfect can it really be if you… are not in it?

\----------------------------

_**Friday, 28/09/18** _

I can’t imagine what the hotel staff is thinking of me, seeing a half-dressed man with matted hair and dark circles. I should be worrying of my appearance yet I can’t seem to care either.

I bump into someone I vaguely recognize. Luke, is it? An old friend of yours, quite fit. I’ve met him once before. I focus on his lips until I see what he’s wearing.

My old holey Fleetwood Mac t-shirt.

I’ve never liked him, anyway.

So I walk away.

He said you were alright. Shouldn’t that be all that matters? Maybe, but I’m suffocating.

\----------------------------

_**Saturday, 29/09/18** _

I’m not sure why I’m even expecting a sorry, or a call, from you. You never were the communicative type. And I never have been one for comfortable silences, or pauses in conversation.

\----------------------------

_**Sunday, 30/09/18** _

There was a pretty girl in the club. Not near pretty as you, but I thought she would do for the night. I almost called her by your name, isn’t that a sign?

I read a quote this morning, after waking up with the girl glued to my side.

> “the courage it took to get out of bed
> 
> each
> 
> morning
> 
> to face the same things over and over
> 
> was enormous.”

...I really wish you’d call.

\----------------------------

_**Saturday, 28/09/19 (one year later.)** _

I never had been one for comfortable silences, or pauses in conversation, but I think now I’ve finally become accustomed to the quiet.

I still wake up at 12 o’clock, but not from Marimba. I think I changed it to By the Seaside because the girl liked it better. I can’t remember her name no matter how hard I try.

I leave myself notes around the house, reminders for meetings and recipes. I also bought myself a new Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. This one doesn’t have any holes.

I drink black coffee and stare out the window. My phone rings, making me spill on the t-shirt. Frustrated, I look at the contact. Its picture is you for the first time in exactly two years.

I don’t pick up.

\----------------------------


End file.
